Chapter 78: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility
"Relax. I dialed that way down. It was just a lesson. Remember it — next time you overestimate yourself, the other guy won't pull the kick."
Ethan looked down at Peter, still flat on his back, cape catching the wind.
Peter lay there, eyes wide, heart still hammering.
He had watched that Rider Kick coming at him and genuinely thought he was about to die. His whole life had flashed. The whole reel.
And then it hit him — hard enough to teach, light enough to leave him breathing.
He looked up at the Kamen Rider and felt, in equal measure, awe and gratitude.
He understood. He'd gotten cocky. He'd overreached. And the lesson was a mercy.
"Thank you." Peter hauled himself upright and bowed, deep and sincere. "But — who are you? Why would you do all this for me?"
He couldn't help being curious. Who was behind the mask? Someone who clearly cared — and who had power on a level Peter couldn't even map.
Could it be Uncle Ben? No, Uncle Ben's way too old for this.
Harry? Maybe? Harry's family has the money for high-tech armor...
Ethan watched Peter's face cycle through theories and felt a flicker of satisfaction. The kid had gotten the message.
"I'm just a passing-through Kamen Rider. I'll be back."
Ethan walked toward a newly opened portal, then glanced back at Peter, who was standing there like a statue.
"You coming? Or do you want to live out here?"
Peter snapped out of it and sprinted for the golden ring. This time, he stared at the portal as he passed through it, trying to figure out how it worked.
He couldn't. He stepped through and was back in the same alley, just like that.
When he turned around to ask the Rider one more question — the Rider was already gone.
Peter was disappointed for about three seconds. Then the reality of what he was now came flooding back, and every other thought got pushed aside.
That evening, Peter was still riding the high when he spotted his neighbor — his goddess — Mary Jane, standing on her front porch.
His heart kicked. Go talk to her. The old Peter would've watched from his window and done nothing. But the new Peter — the Peter with spider-powers — had confidence he'd never tasted before.
He was two steps toward her when MJ's new boyfriend called her over.
Peter watched her climb into a shiny new car and ride away.
The joy of having superpowers evaporated on the spot.
He'd thought having abilities would change things. Would make MJ see him. Would put him on the map.
But watching her drive off in some other guy's car, Peter understood something cold and simple.
None of this matters without money. Money is what gets you noticed. Money is what gets you the girl.
His fists clenched. Something hungry flickered in his eyes.
He was going to figure out how to turn his powers into cash. He was going to buy a car too.
Peter went home, grabbed the newspaper, and started combing through the car listings.
A Bentley for thirty grand — he shook his head. Way out of range.
A Porsche for twenty-five — he frowned. Not his style.
Fifteen thousand for a sedan — no. That kind of money needed to go to Uncle Ben and Aunt May, not a car.
He was losing hope when he hit the last page.
A used convertible. Twenty-five ninety-eight.
Peter's eyes lit up like he'd found the Holy Grail. Convertible. That was the word. Forget the price — the top comes off. That's the car.
Now he just needed twenty-five hundred dollars.
He was still working the problem when an ad caught his eye.
PROFESSIONAL WRESTLING CHALLENGE. Survive three minutes in the ring, win $3,000.
Peter's brain connected the dots at the speed of spider-sense.
Three thousand dollars. The car. MJ in the passenger seat. MJ looking at him for once.
That was all the motivation he needed. He was doing this.
He spent the rest of the night designing a costume.
In his head, the fantasy was already fully formed — him and MJ, cruising down the boulevard in that convertible, wind in her hair, his arm over the door.
The dream carried him through the whole night.
The next morning, Peter came downstairs buzzing with energy, ready to leave.
Uncle Ben offered to walk him.
Peter waved him off. He didn't want to be a bother.
But Uncle Ben had already put on his jacket.
"I need some air anyway. Let's walk together." His tone made it clear this wasn't a suggestion.
They reached the drop-off point quickly. Peter was already mentally at the arena. He hitched up his bag and turned to go.
"Thanks, Uncle Ben. I'm heading out."
"Hold on. We need to talk."
Uncle Ben's voice carried a weight that stopped Peter mid-step.
"Can we do this later?"
Uncle Ben shook his head.
"I'd rather do it now. If that's alright."
Peter exhaled. He knew there was no getting out of this. He rolled his eyes, impatient.
"Fine. What's so important it has to be right now?"
Uncle Ben looked at him. There was worry in his eyes, and something older — a recognition of patterns he'd seen before.
"You've stopped helping around the house. You come home and lock yourself in your room every night."
"You're changing. I get it. At your age, I was the same way."
Peter opened his mouth to push back, but Uncle Ben kept going.
"Peter — the choices you make in these next few years are going to shape the person you become. Don't go down the wrong road."
Then he reached out and placed one finger gently against Peter's chest. Right over the heart.
"Remember this. With great power comes great responsibility."
Something in Peter tightened. Not in a good way.
He felt lectured. He felt like Uncle Ben was trying to steer a life that wasn't his to steer.
"You think I'm going to turn into a bad person? Don't worry about it, okay? Things are different now. I can handle it. Just — stop giving me speeches."
Peter shoved the car door open, climbed out, and didn't look back.
He didn't see the look on Uncle Ben's face. The deep, quiet worry. The helplessness of a man who'd said the most important thing he would ever say, to a boy who didn't want to hear it.
Peter didn't know — couldn't know — that if things went the way they were supposed to go, this was the last time he would ever hear Uncle Ben's voice.
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